


Futures

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of what might have happened if Eleven had found and rescued Gallifrey prior to the events shown in <i>The Time of the Doctor</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Futures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lannamichaels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/gifts).



"I ran so far to get away from your war," the Master said.   
  
He was the sole occupant of a narrow, poured-concrete cell, and sat on a thin, wooden bench staring blankly at the opposing wall. The Doctor stood in the hallway outside, looking in. His jacket and tweed had been exchanged for flowing orange robes. They fitted awkwardly and made him look like a child playing dress-up. There was an ornate head piece which went with the outfit, but the Doctor held it under one arm.  
  
The Master wore washed-out prison greys. They made him look older.   
  
The Doctor griped at the cell's barred door with his one free hand. "It wasn't my war; It was never my war."  
  
The Master continued as if the Doctor had not spoken, "I ran so far. I ran to the end of the universe, and what did you do? You dragged me back into it."  
  
"It was never my intention to -"  
  
"Wasn't it? But it wasn't enough for you, was it? Forcing me back through the time lock. No-no-no-no, you thought that the entire universe wanted a second round of watching the Time Lords and the Daleks bashing the cosmos in."  
  
"And everyone lived," the Doctor snapped. "Even you can't argue against me on this. The war is over and everyone lived."  
  
The Master stood up and started moving his finger along his cell's wall in a familiar pattern, tracing the invisible, crooked grin of a crack that no longer existed. "And doesn't that make you feel special? Doesn't that make you feel like a god."  
  
"No."  
  
"No?" The Master turned to look at the man he was speaking with for the first time. "Doctor, really, I thought you enjoyed the adoration."  
  
The Doctor awkwardly indicated his robes and ridiculous hat. "They want me to be President."  
  
"Ah, too much adoration. I see. Did you turn them down? Did they get angry? You're being very quiet, Doctor. That means something's happened that you don't like and you can't change."  
  
"You're a war criminal."  
  
"So are you!"  
  
The Doctor observed the floor. "They've dismissed the charges."  
  
"How very convenient."  
  
"Yes, it is, isn't it," the Doctor muttered. "The duties of the President -"  
  
"Include executions. Yes, very tedious, because now you're in an awkward position etc. etc. Do you need to go on blathering? We've been here before a thousand times and we both know that you can never quite manage to pull the trigger. It upsets your tiresome sense of morality."  
  
The Doctor began pacing a tight circle, looking up occasionally for emphasis. "I know that you aren't a good man. You have the blood of thousands on your hands."  
  
"As do you, Doctor, don't think that altering the course of the time streams has washed you clean. Some stains never come out."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And? If you make one more dramatic pause, Doctor, I will not be responsible for my actions."  
  
"I try and I try and I try, but it is very difficult to do the right thing."  
  
"So why not try something different?"  
  
The Doctor stilled. "There's a thought."  
  
The Master smiled. "What is the High Council using to keep you in line? They want you as a figure head, but they would never trust you with the Presidency unless you were firmly under their thumb, and you would never accept unless they had something. What is it, Doctor? Who, is it?"  
  
"My companion, Clara." He paused. The Master glared. "And my grand-daughter. And... in a way... you."  
  
"My death as a reward? Lovely, and here I was, still thinking, despite all of the evident to the contrary, that you cared."  
  
"You guessed that I refused. I did."  
  
"And I pay the price. Equally lovely."  
  
"Don't treat this like a joke."  
  
"It is a joke. It's a farce. And you - why don't you use my name? You haven't once said my name, or said that you were happy to see me alive, though I suppose you weren't, so expecting it is a bit crass. But you could at least address me as a person as we discuss my up-coming execution. Or does it make it easier for you? Pretending that I'm not a person, or that you don't care?"  
  
"Master..."  
  
"Oh, will I get apologies now? Please, Doctor, shoot me and be done with it. I don't want my death to be a pageant and a spectacle. That would be harder for both of us."  
  
"I don't want to..."  
  
"No, you don't, and I don't want you to, and if it were just your puny human girlfriend on the line I would be doing everything in my power to get out of this cell and... but it isn't. So do it now, and we'll defy the High Council together down here in this cell by ending things our own way. Or..."  
  
"Or?"  
  
The Master grinned, straightening his drab prison uniform and somehow, suddenly, looking more dignified and exponentially more dangerous.   
  
"You said you wanted to try something different? Let me out, we'll rescue them. Both of them, and then go on the run. We'll steal weapons from the vault before we leave. You have the Presidential codes. We'll rule the universe together! Think of it, Doctor, you'll have all of the perks of leadership with none of the drawbacks. There will be no high Council breathing down your neck, controlling your actions. Anytime you desire a break, well, even partnership, yes? Think of all the good we could do!"  
  
The Doctor started laughing.  
  
"What? What?" The Master asking, staring at his former friend as if he had gone mad.  
  
"Yes." The Doctor finally choked out.  
  
"What? Really? Doctor, what did they do to you?"  
  
"Nothing, and never mind. Yes. Let's. Let's escape and the rest... oh, we'll sort it out once we're all free."  
  
"We're just going to end up fighting over that again, aren't we?"  
  
"Yes, probably. They took my sonic, but I think I can get the lock if I... yes... Ouch! Oh, that bruised my pinkie. You're welcome!"  
  
The Master strode out of his cell, linked arms with the Doctor and marched off towards a future, which wasn't really that different from his past:  
  
Two exiles bickering and fighting with each other across the universe.  
  
Neither would have it any other way.


End file.
